… and where is that harmony? Sweet harmony is when the roaring continues uninterrupted over the gaps of shifting channels. linear time is a joke. when you order an iced honeybear at the halfwit wormhole and plan on the three levels of love-worn pages in the neighborhood-nearby future
Category Archives: poetry
FISHING IN THE DARK / 06190719
When tears of a drowning pool and your other half wakes you up early to tell you ‘we’re going to war,’ after his own end-of-world dreams. Time for the after-party–invites out, sneakers in the mail, and a new set of clubs. . .
GONNA WARM MY BONES / 05190619
Quand Gemeaux, morning sunshine! The Lovers spiff up from the conjoin portal, in emerald gold and bloom from the wild pasture down the moonlight mile. A fever, if you let it.
GOLDENROD BAM-BAMBINA / 04190519
When there’s stained glass for piety, and nemeses emerge; in the wild pasture, down a two-lane sidewinder—a matter of safety, or a rendezvous?
KEEP PLAYING WITH ME / 03190419
n i’ll dogwalk u hoes. tfw u got yr bag w/ a tape
of a touch of mink and ur mental mines’ Mitchumy––dread-looming knuckles and a true-footed saxophone––drop your shades, O &
that bottle hit different when i bust it across your head . . .
@ THE PEPPERMILL / 02190319
for when: Do *anything* for clout? She gone. It’s like trying to catch a freight train with a butterfly net.
N’EXISTE PAS SANS SON CONTRAIRE / 01190219
Le Verseau avec Roméo Elvis … tout oublier.
EMERALD DALZIEL / 12180119
For that chemistry undeniable, wrenching cup overfloweth type of unf; for the earned pennies, for the marathon starts and announcements of intent, and for the gold balloon animals who mind our precious totems
2019 • NEW YEARS WRIT • 2020
When you were 20
When you are 30;
When you just recently
revisited your mother’s houseplant
alive longer than you
by a good decade;
When you’re newly fallen
for a new fable;
When the slowcooker
in the background while
images of redblood sun in
Australia;
When you find that
thrones don’t come with rear
view mirrors;
When you’re filled with love
to bursting
when you know not the words;
when you keep coming back to naïve melody;
When now;
When the sound of crows
in chorus and the dryer
buzz;
When the glowing sun of a
rightful dynasty is nigh;
When there’s plenty work to do.
Now magic and clear.
Thank you. I love you.
kate carsella 